The Son of Suns
by RinneganSage
Summary: In times of strife, darkness and greatest despair there will emerge prophesied Galactic saviour. But is it the same as the Chosen One who will bring balance to the Force, the recently freed slave boy from Tatooine? Ares knew none of it as he descended the Nubian ship, blind to the Force and to sight, intent on running away from his captors. But at what cost?


Blood! So much blood! Such despair. So much pain.

_What should I do? _

_What should I do? _

_What should I do?_

His helpless thoughts reverberated inside his mind as he screamed his lungs out, throat hoarse, fogging his senses and numbing his body. And yet still, he felt pain.

What was going on? Why was no one listening to him? Why could no one hear him? His eyes shot open yet he saw nothing. Why couldn't he feel the Force?

The Sith!

How had they had managed the impossible?! Had they managed to silence the Force from him?

* * *

Obi Wan hung from the input nozzle in the reactor shaft, dangling for his life. While his Master battled on the Sith. He realised what had happened at the same time as Qui Gon.

A sense of trepidation then shock washed over him as his Master was struck in the chest, impaled by the Sith's crimson lightsabre. Obi Wan couldn't see over the ledge but he felt his Master's pain through their damaged bond.

'NOOO!' Obi Wan screamed, the coldness he had been feeling up till now abated a little as he used the Force to pull himself off the nozzle.

As Obi Wan somersaulted in the air, calling for his Master's lightsabre to his hand, he could tell that the Sith had been surprised to see him emerge. But he didn't have time to give it much thought as both Jedi and Sith had engaged each other once again.

Whereas before the Sith's erratic movements with his double-bladed lightsabre were just a little too fast for Obi Wan, now he could parry them effectively. His anger, which had been simmering just under the surface for a week now, lashed out against the palpable hate flowing through the Sith.

The Sith revolved once, avoiding a blow from Obi Wan only to bring back the bottom blade, twirling it up and slashed it at the Jedi. Obi Wan barely managed to block it, parried the other blade and lashed out on his own offensive, all the while cursing focusing on Ataru.

The Sith parried the blow effortlessly, and slammed his blades against the green one Obi Wan wielded, not even trying to go around Obi Wan's defences. The Sith was trying and with every slash and parry, almost succeeding in going through the Jedi's defences.

Obi Wan ducked a slash of the top blade, and saw the opening just for a second, twisting his shoulder blades left, he slashed vertically up. Sparks emitting from the two halves of the Sith's handle told him his gamble had been successful.

The Sith growled, and threw away the now useless half, holding the remaining one with both his gloved hands, hate and rage lashing out against Obi Wan's mental shields. But the Jedi's anger at the thought of his Master's still fleeting life strengthened his mental barriers. He readied himself for another round as the Sith ran towards him, snarling.

* * *

He had to get out of here. Ares knew it was a bad idea to stay here. His erratically beating heart raced further as he pushed himself off the surface he had been on, and with a groan of pain, picked himself off the floor.

He might not be able to see, but he could hear the sounds of blasters, shouting of people here and there, and unmistakable sounds of battle. He had no idea where he was going as he stumbled out of the open ship, but he knew he had to get away from the battle, wherever he was.

There was no in way in seven hells was he going to sit around, waiting for the Sith to come and torture him further. He was scared. He wasn't afraid to admit it. They had already taken away his eyes, Ares felt dread wash over him as his hand ran over the burnt skin of his face.

But that was as far as he allowed himself to go into his current reflections. He didn't have time for any of it. For all he knew, the Sith were coming for him right now. Ares had no idea where to go but away from the cannon fire and ships was a safe bet.

And so, he limped in the opposite direction, vaguely aware that his left arm was still attached to what seemed like an I.V stand. At least it gave him support to stand, helping his atrophied legs to withstand his weight.

His head was foggy, his memory hazy. All he knew in this moment was the indescribable despair. Despair, which he felt was not his own, for the most part. Perhaps, it was the despair of the people of this place.

If whatever this place was, was in the middle of a war, then there was no doubt that the Sith were causing massive casualties. The blood of innocents had never mattered much, if at all, to them. But where was she_. _She, who had promised to stay with him, where in the world had she gone. Had she abandoned him too?

No… His feelings told him she hadn't. But that she was no longer alive. Now, that despair which was mostly others was now being fed by him. No. She couldn't be gone! He protested the idea.

He had no idea what was going to happen. As much as his six-year-old self had been hurt, he had promised himself not to depend on others! But he had. He couldn't help it. He had depended on her after his abandonment! And now she was dead.

Trembling cold hands clutched the hair on his head, trying desperately to make senses of what was happening. Even as he walked where his legs and his instincts would take him. In retrospect, he would regret it later. But he had one goal right now. To run. To escape. To survive. And the cold feeling in his chest would not stop him.

* * *

Obi Wan was tiring. Dangerously quickly. The anger which had given him strength was now fading fast and so was the increase in power. He was slowing down. The battle with the Sith had been going on for what felt like hours. But in reality, must have been only a few minutes.

'Arrgh!' Obi Wan slashed rightwards, heaving his sabre with both hands with as much might as he could muster but the agile Sith had dodged, and in a seemingly impossible manoeuvre, somersaulted horizontally, spinning and landing to his feet.

In the same breath, the Sith lunged forward, his sabre in his right hand. Obi Wan barely blocked it, holding his own green blade vertically in front of his face. Dangerously close, both blades locked.

Too late, did he realise that the Sith had taken his left hand off his handle, and was now free. It was too late to realise that he was flying backwards as a result of the Force push. Obi Wan barely managed to keep his hand on his lightsabre's hilt as he crashed into the wall.

'Ughhh!' his back screamed in pain. He could see the amount of gloating and sick pleasure in the ochre eyes of the assassin. Who even now, as Obi Wan was struggling to stand, calling for the Force to aid his muscles, was racing towards him!

And Obi Wan felt fear. For the second time in this fight, he felt it nearly overcome him. He didn't want to die. Not here. He still had to save his Master. His instincts told him to duck, a second before the crimson blade slashed into the wall where his hand been.

Obi Wan seeing the opening, would have struck right into the Sith's abdomen, if the red blade hadn't been coming down at his head. As it was, Obi Wan shoved his blade up to block the sabre, dangerously close his own eyes.

The sparks flew from the grinding lightsabres and burnt into his skin. Obi Wan lashed out with a kick, sending his opponent flying into a few feet back, giving the Jedi at least room enough to breathe. But that was all the respite he got as his snarling opponent was on his feet in an instant.

His Master groaned from where he lay on the floor, his breath hitching. He was still alive! Obi Wan had to be quick. He had to save him. No matter what disagreements they'd had over the last few weeks since they took this accursed mission.

No matter if Qui Gon was overly attached to the slave boy he had just freed from Tatooine. No matter that Qui Gon wanted to train him so badly he told the Council that Obi Wan was ready when he wasn't.

All that was in the past. Right now, as the red-skinned Sith, clad in black, with glowing, hateful orange eyes walked towards its prey, none of it mattered. For Obi Wan didn't want to die. He didn't want his Master to die either.

With a yell, Obi Wan threw himself forward, going on the offensive this time. His fear giving him the strength and the speed as he lashed out, delivering blow after blow against the Sith's blocks. The snarling Sith backed away, and Obi Wan saw his snarl turn into a smirk.

And in that moment, he realised how foolish he had been. The monster had been testing him. Taunting him. And now, with a growl, the Sith slashed forward, and right and down, and judged him unworthy to live.

Obi Wan couldn't keep up with the beast's ferocious attacks and a kick to the chest sent him staggering. Before Obi Wan could right himself, the Sith's red blade slashed and Obi Wan's sensed burst in pain.

'ARRGGHHHH!' the Jedi yelled, as the cut handle fell to the floor, and along with it, Obi Wan's hand. Obi Wan stared in shock at the stump on his left wrist, pain overwhelming every other emotion even as the Sith force pushed him back. Obi Wan landed near his Master, who himself had his eyes closed.

He couldn't win. The Sith was too strong. Too trained. He had studied the Jedi and the way they fight and Obi Wan was severely lacking.

* * *

Ares had walked into something very, very wrong. He had known it as soon as he heard the yell of pain from someone. A man, he realised. Wait, what in the world was he doing here?

He was supposed to be walking away from fights and conflict, not towards it! He had trusted his instincts to lead him right. What stupidity! Ares cursed himself thoroughly as he sensed the overflowing hate and rage coming from one single source.

What the hell?!

He had meant to run away from the Sith. Not to them. The being snarled in annoyance, and Ares felt the being's attentions shift from the man towards him. The poor blind boy. He felt the Sith's disgust at his weakness and even in his fear ridden mind, he couldn't disagree with him.

He had been stupid to think that he could trust his own instincts when he had already gathered that his connection to the Force had been diminished. And now he was going to pay the price.

But then, through the fear rang another thought. This was the Sith! This must be the person who killed her! And with that, his fear turned to anger, and to potent rage. He would not let him live! Ares swore to himself that he would kill this being if it was the last thing he did. Or he would die trying.

All thoughts of running away fled from his mind. But he was not lucid enough to realise the irony of it. All that remained was the desire for vengeance. And if he was a Jedi Padawan, this would be a heavy mark against him. But as it was, he couldn't care less about the hypocritical monks.

His instincts screamed at him to move. But could he trust them? Being blinded, Force wise and physically, he had no choice but to obey. Ares shifted right at the last moment, but his world still exploded in agony.

Ares felt the burning hole impaled into his right side where the assassin had struck him. Shi'ak, his mind supplied, the name of the technique.

Then, without thinking, he channelled that agony, the pain and hurt of realising she was gone, and his rage, his helplessness at not being able to be heard, at his yells not having any effect.

Desperately, he clung to one last shred of hope. In retrospect, he will regret it later but the desperation made him scream. And in the fogged silence of his mind, he whispered, _'I'm so sor –'_

'AAAAGHHHHHH!'

His scream of primal rage erupted out of him and into the Force itself, hurling the assassin away from him at blinding speed, slamming him into a wall nearby.

And in that instant, his inky black vision exploded into a world of red. But in his rage, he realised none of it except that the Dathomirian Zabrak was hurling himself back at him, his red blade poised to take off Ares' head.

Another scream, this time louder, freed itself from Ares' throat as the being came closer. Ares saw the strike before it happened. The Force gathered around him like a cloak, and exploded out of him.

He saw the shock written on the Zabrak's tattooed face. And then it was over and Ares was falling to the ground, the strength fading from him as his head slammed onto the cold floor.

* * *

Obi Wan had no clue whatsoever at what had happened. One moment, he was bracing himself for his inevitable demise at the Sith's blade, and then out of nowhere, the blind boy had shown up.

Obi Wan could see that the Sith was just as surprised as he was, as neither of him had sensed the boy's arrival.

No! No! Obi Wan tried to gather his strength and tried to stand even as the Sith's attention was shifted from him to this new annoyance. Obi Wan had already failed in protecting his Master, had failed in killing the Sith. He'd be damned if he let this beast kill the boy. His failure would be complete then.

'NOOO!' Obi Wan had yelled when the Sith had impaled the boy in the abdomen, but it had been drowned out by the terrifying Force Scream that had erupted from the boy, hurling the Sith away faster than Obi Wan could see.

The boy's scream rang through the Force like a shockwave, not once but twice. But what had happened next was what confused the living Sith hell out of the Jedi Padawan. A scream of pure primal rage erupted from the boy, but it was drowned out by the sounds of a thousand chirping birds.

An explosion of blue light was followed by the Sith's head rolling of his shoulders, body crashing into the wall. Wide eyed, Obi Wan could smell the burning, charred flesh, from the hole where the Sith's heart should have been.

The boy falling to the ground shook Obi Wan backed into his senses and the Jedi had to chose. Instead of going to the boy, he scrambled towards his fallen Master, clutching his stump close to his chest.

'Master no, no! Please!' Obi Wan cried, straddling Qui Gon's head in his lap.

Qui Gon held onto life, for the slim chance that he could tell Obi Wan his last wishes, and whispered, staggeringly, 'It's…. It's too…. Late…. Obi Wan…'

'No!' his apprentice intoned. Qui Gon couldn't see but he could almost picture Obi Wan's stubborn expression.

'Obi Wan… Promise me… you will train the boy… He is…. The Chosen One…. He… will…. Bring balance….'

Obi Wan could only nod, horrified, and stunned, that even now, his Master's last wishes were about the slave boy he had become so attached to in the few days he had known him, and not the apprentice he had trained for a dozen years.

But no! That didn't matter. He had to save him! He could save him!

With his meagre knowledge in Force Healing, he tried to push his life force into his Master's dying body. He pushed more and more, more than his body or his spirit could handle transferring. He knew it was inadvisable. But he would not let Qui Gon die. He couldn't.

He could feel the force resist his efforts but he continued anyway. Pushing more until he reached his very limit, and then pushed some more.

'No! Obi Wan… failed…' Qui Gon uttered.

Obi Wan reeled back in shock, he was filling up with the Force, able to feel the Living Force as he had never before. He felt his cells inundate with it, and then with a mighty shove, he pushed it towards the dying Master.

And as Obi Wan collapsed, he didn't know what was happening. He should have been dead. But apparently, the Force wouldn't allow itself to be used to save the life of one at the cost of the other.

'NOOO!' Obi Wan screamed in his head. The agonising pain was beyond anything he could imagine. Much more than having his hand chopped off. But maybe it was because the pain wasn't delivered by the Sith.

Obi Wan, too tired to fight to stay awake, slipped into unconsciousness. His last fleeting image was of the most ethereal, beautiful woman, made entirely out of light, glowing and hovering over the dead body of the boy who stumbled upon their fight.


End file.
